I can't have any of these people know and talk about my past!Henry Carr's hand dropped away from her quivering body as they entered the house. Mavis didn't bother turning on another light as the lamp in the distant living room cut the gloom in the kitchen. Mavis knew exactly where Phil kept his cigars... in one of the vegetable drawers in the refrigerator.This is where he'll take me, Mavis thought, hesitating on opening the refrigerator. Somehow, she knew."I didn't see a sign of a prowler," Hank said in the dim kitchen."I didn't either, I didn't know we had prowlers in the neighborhood." Mavis breathed shakily--wishing he would make his move... piss or get off the pot!There was a rustling behind her, but Mavis wouldn't turn to determine what it was. She folded her arms under her full breasts, just waiting. She sensed it was only a matter of time before Hank made his move. She shivered, hating the suspense of when he would take her. If it were going to happen, she wished he would do. Once again the stimulation stops suddenly. I am left blind, struggling to breathe, struggling to move, and wondering where my Sir is. Then I feel you, behind me, at my head. Your fingers run over my chest, pinching gently along my shoulders and softly through my hair. Then tenderly grasping my head, you slowly grind your thick, swollen cock against the top of my head. My head being the only thing I can freely move, I rotate my neck, loving the feel of you pressing yourself against me. "Hungry, slut?" You speak quietly, never stopping your motions against me. "Oh, yes, Sir," I whisper, licking my lips. Your hands leave my head, and I groan softly hearing the zipper of your pants. I arch my neck, attempting to tilt my head back further, to feel you as you release your cock. You take another step back, foiling me again, and chuckling. Then your hands are back on my head, holding it in place. Soft sounds of hunger come from me as you finally run your rigid cock along one cheek. My tongue.
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